Chapter XIX: Truth
Lady Theda's footsteps echoed in the corridor as she hurried to Alicent’s old room, her heart pounding with anxiety. She found Isabella lying on the bed, her face pale and bruised, her body still bearing the marks of punishment. Isabella looked up at Lady Theda with a mixture of fear and confusion as she entered the room.
Lady Theda approached Isabella with a hesitant expression. "Isabella, get up, the king is requesting your presence at the bathing house," she informed her, her tone cautious but concealed.
Isabella's eyes widened in alarm, but she knew better than to defy the king's summons. Slowly, she pushed herself up from the bed, wincing at the pain that shot through her body.
As Lady Theda helped Isabella to her feet, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. She knew the king's temper was unpredictable, and she feared what might happen when he saw Isabella's condition. But she dared not voice her concerns aloud, lest she incur his wrath. Instead, she silently led Isabella back to the bathing house, praying that the king would blindly believe Lady Dara.
Isabella entered the bathing house dressed in her nightgown, her head bowed. She stood in front of the bathtub, facing the king and the other twelve concubines. The king's stern gaze made her nervous. "Lift your head," he commanded, and Isabella obeyed, revealing her bruised face.
"What happened?" the king inquired, his voice firm. Lady Theda rushed to explain, but the king cut her off. "I asked Isabella," he stated sharply. Isabella took a deep breath, steeling herself. "Your favorite girl thought I was trying to seduce you, and she and her friends assaulted me for it," she explained, her voice trembling slightly.
The king's expression darkened with anger. "Leave," he commanded the other concubines and Lady Theda. "My king, she is lying," Lady Dara accused, her voice laced with malice. "That’s not what happened! She's trying to manipulate you!"
"Leave us," he commanded, dismissing Lady Dara’s complaints. “Now!”
They departed hastily, all wet and naked, leaving Isabella alone with the king. She felt her body trembling from pain, managed to speak up, her voice barely above a whisper. "If you wish to rape me, Your Majesty, now is good time. I'm too weak to even stand," she said, sinking onto the cool marble steps of the bathtub.
The king's gaze softened as he regarded her, a flicker of concern in his eyes. "Tell me, Isabella, is what you said true? About Dara assaulting you?" He asked, his tone firm yet gentle.
Isabella met his gaze, her eyes reflecting a mixture of pain and defiance. "Do you think I have any reason to lie? Look at my face," she countered, her voice wavering with emotion.
As he beheld Isabella's bruised and weakened body, the king felt an unfamiliar sensation stir within him. It was a blend of pity for her condition and an inexplicable urge to offer her comfort and solace. The way she spoke, her voice bearing the weight of her shattered spirit, struck a chord within him.
In that moment, gazing at Isabella with her bruised face and trembling form, the king's usual feelings of lust were replaced by a strange tenderness. It was a sensation he couldn't quite comprehend, a longing to embrace her and care for her in a way that went beyond mere desire. And he felt angry. Angry because Dara had no right to damage his property, she had no right to bruise her beautiful face, as her beauty also belonged to him. She had no right to make Isabella suffer like that.
"Isabella," he said gently, "what would you have me do with Lady Dara? How do you wish for her to be punished?" His inquiry hung in the air, a weighty decision resting on Isabella's response.
Isabella's laughter, tinged with pain, echoed in the room, startling the king. She coughed, wincing from the sharp ache it brought. "Your Majesty," she said between gasps, "I don't care about Lady Dara's punishment. It's not important to me."
Confusion furrowed the king's brow. "What do you mean, Isabella?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.
Struggling to find her words, Isabella's gaze held the king's. “Do I really need to bear a child first?” Isabella asked. The king looked at her, confused. "You once told me," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "that I would bear you a child, and then I could die." The king's eyes widened in realization as she continued, "Well, Your Majesty, can I not simply die now?"
The king's stern expression softened slightly as he regarded Isabella. "No, Isabella," he said firmly, "you must live."
Isabella's disappointment was evident in her eyes, but there was also a sense of resignation. The king observed Isabella's bruised face and weary demeanor. "Isabella," he said gently, "just tell me, what do you wish for Lady Dara's punishment?"
Isabella lifted her head, meeting the king's gaze with a mixture of pain and determination. "I want Lady Theda replaced," she replied firmly. "She's the one who enables Dara's cruelty. If she's gone, perhaps I’ll have some peace."
The king's brows furrowed in surprise at Isabella's request. "You don't seek revenge?" he asked, intrigued by her lack of vindictiveness.
Isabella shook her head. "Revenge won't bring back what I've lost," she said quietly. He understood clearly she wasn’t talking about Dara. "Removing Lady Theda might prevent further suffering. For me and maybe for others."
The king regarded her thoughtfully, admiring her resilience and selflessness. "Very well," he conceded. "Lady Theda shall be replaced. You may return to your chambers, Isabella. Rest now."
Isabella nodded gratefully and slowly rose from the stairs, her body still aching from the recent ordeal. As she left the bathing house, a sense of relief washed over her, knowing that at least one source of her torment would soon be gone.
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